


Gift Exchange

by Churbooseanon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas rolls around and Church doesn’t know what to get Caboose. Tucker suggests just screwing him. The idea is a bit too... straightforward for Church's taste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> I was challenged to write a story involving Church getting stressed over giving Caboose a present, and Tucker being absolutely fed up with him. This was the result.

“Just pick something already!”

“You’re actually not helping, Tucker,” Church groaned as he bent over the display of watches. Would Caboose even want a watch? No, better question, would Caboose even wear a watch? No, _even_ better question, did Caboose know how to read an analog clock?

“What about this one?” Church asked at last, looking up at the man who was, somehow, his best friend, and pointing down at a watch that had stars on the tips of the arms and had a nice blue face that was the exact shade of blue that Caboose liked more than any other, and what looked like a comfortable leather band.

“Who the fuck cares? Can that idiot even tell time? Why are you dragging me along for this? I just bought him a box of cookies. Why are you even putting so much time into this? You know you could just bend him over and…”

Tucker’s annoying stream of commentary fell off as Church looked up and gave him the hardest glare he could manage, the one he reserved for when the other man had actually crossed a line. Of course he was pretty sure the only reason Tucker went silent was because he knew the look promised pending violence if Tucker did not shut the fuck up.

“Maybe I should get him a shirt or something,” Church sighed, pushing himself to fully standing and glaring down at the display case.

“You don’t even _like_ Christmas,” Tucker spat bitterly as he pushed away from the display and shook his head. “You’ve spent the last three years conning me into getting you gifts and giving me rocks or stacks of paper or some bull-shit thing, and now here we are, hour _three_ of a mall crawl because you can’t pick something out for Caboose.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Church growled, except it came out as a groan and he wanted to hit himself for that.

“Wouldn’t understand? You’re fucking kidding, right? Caboose may be a few cards short of a full deck, but that doesn’t mean you are. Okay, so maybe you are, but come _on_ , have you _seen_ the looks you’ve been shooting at Caboose lately? Right, you wouldn’t be able to. Well, take it from me, Doctor Fuck, you make the sappiest eyes at that idiot whenever…”

“Don’t call him an idiot!” Church snapped, and he winced at how angry he sounded. Really, he was only proving Tucker’s point, wasn’t he? Shit, when had this happened? When had he lost all reasonable control over himself and fallen for the stupidest guy he knew who was more of a fuck up than anything and had the most amazing smile that lit up his face and such innocent eyes and…

“Yeah,” Tucker chuckled as Church groaned to himself, “you’ve got it bad.”

“I don’t get it,” Church admitted as they strode away from the display and out of the store. “How did this even happen?”

“No fucking clue, but take it from me, the heart wants what the heart wants. So just suck it up, find something, _anything_ , and give it to him. And while the idiot is processing the fact that you actually _managed_ to care enough to get him something, just kiss him. Then find the nearest flat surface and…”

“If you finish that sentence, you’re going home to your kid with a broken nose,” Church promised, putting murder in his voice in the way he’d learned from Tex years ago.

“I’m just saying. Need to get that while the getting’s good.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Yeah, I hate you to asshole. So just hurry up and buy something because I’m so fucking done with this.”

* * * * * *

Three beers. He was three beers into the ‘Christmas Party’ that Donut had insisted everyone come to with that cheery kind of threat under his voice that said if they didn’t he was going to use them as pitching targets for his little league team come the spring. It wasn’t much of a party, just another stupid affair at Doc and Donut’s little house where everyone was being friendly and giving Church the massive amounts of space they all offered him at the holidays. Donut was circling with snacks, Grif was stealing handfuls of them whenever the platter got too close to his lazy ass, and Tucker was making thinly veiled references to the bar stools by the breakfast bar that were turning Doc’s face brilliant shades of red.

Apparently he owed Tucker ten bucks on that bet, about to become twenty for how fucking _cowardly_ he was being. Caboose was playing mousetrap with Simmons—who even _owned_ that game at their age—and every now and then he would look up and smile at Church and wave at him to beckon him over. And every time Church would grimace and take another swig because dammit he was adorable like that and the box was burning in his pocket, and every last time Simmons would remind Caboose that they had been playing too long for someone else to join in. Caboose’s expression would fall and he’d return his attention to the game and Church would fight not to groan at the loss of those beautiful eyes on him.

With a sigh Church pushed himself off the couch, sneered at Simmons when the geeky man looked up at him as he passed the coffee table, and made a beeline for the breakfast bar where Tucker sat with Sarge and the massive variety of alcohol.

“But seriously, these things feel like they mold right to your ass,” Tucker said as Church came up to him and Doc let out a squeak as he turned even redder. “Hey Church, what do you think? These stools are…”

“Lay off, Tucker,” Church growled, putting down his latest empty bottle.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough,” Sarge asked, frowning severely as Church reached for another bottle.

“No,” Church snapped even as Tucker’s hand came up and grabbed his wrist.

“Dude, you’re going to ruin the party for everyone. So either get over yourself, do what you came here to do, or leave.”

“Yeah, you’d like me to do that, wouldn’t you?” Church sneered. “Just fucking walk away.”

“No. You know _exactly_ what I think you should do, but you’re an ass and stupid to boot, only made worse by being drunk. So you know what, just call a fucking cab and leave. Because I’m fucking tired of your bullshit.”

“Fuck you, Tucker,” Church growled, yanking his hand free. “Just… Just fuck you.”

“Not what you want,” Tucker countered easily. “Give me your keys. Like hell I’m letting you drive home.”

Church just glared at the look Tucker was giving him, and after a long moment he tore the keys from his pocket and threw them at Tucker. They, of course, were caught far short of that grinning face, and Church just fumed as he stormed for the door.

“Bye Church!” Donut called. “Be safe going home!”

“Fuck off,” Church snarled under his breath as he grabbed his coat off the rack and tugged it on. The gloves took a bit more fumbling, and the snow boots were even worse, and so by the time he was ready Caboose was standing at his side, pulling his coat on.

“You’re gonna have to get a ride from someone else,” Church mumbled, unwilling to raise his voice to Caboose. Not here, not now, not with a box burning a hole in his pocket and getting hotter just from having Caboose nearby.

“I know. I saw you give Tucker your keys.”

Give. Yeah, that _wasn’t_ the right word for it.

“I’m going to keep you company until your ride gets here,” Caboose continued with a smile as he tied his boots with nimble fingers that Church couldn’t help but stare at. “It is nice to have company.”

“Whatever,” Church said, not quite rejecting Caboose, not quite accepting him, as he opened the door.

It was cold outside, colder still when he slammed the door behind him, and freezing by the time he made it halfway down the walk and managed to fumble his phone out of his pocket as he heard the door opening and closing again.

“Church, wait, I’m going to keep you company. Oh, and since you’re leaving should I just give you your gift…”

“Caboose, do us both a favor and shut up,” Church sighed, turning to look at the taller man and doing his best not to let that smile warm him. “Why do you even get me a gift when you know I don’t even fucking like this stupid holiday?”

There was a momentary flash of hurt across Caboose’s expressive face, replaced almost instantly by the same cheer there always was.

“Because you’re my best friend,” Caboose insisted, and Church watched as the other man pulled what looked like a box out from behind his back. It was festively wrapped with blue paper covered with snowflakes, and for a moment Church regretted not wrapping his. The box was still burning in his pocket.

“Whatever,” Church sighed as he took the gift in his gloved hands and started to tear the paper off. He was left with a brown box that was fucking impossible to get his fingers into for the first few tries—the combination of gloves and cold and alcohol didn’t make for coordination—and eventually revealed a white coffee mug.

“Tucker said you would like it,” Caboose insisted with a smile and Church swallowed hard at what Tucker might have told Caboose, might have talked him into, might have laughed his ass off over.

What he found was a plain white mug bare save for a bit of text. ‘I’m not awake until right…’ the top declared, and the bottom was graced with ‘here.’ It was clearly meant to be a joke on his morning coffee habits, and Church just smiled at it.

“It’s perfect,” Church admitted, and he watched as Caboose’s eyes went wide and he practically beaming at Church. “I…”

Church sighed and with his still uncoordinated hands he fished into his pants pocket and pulled out the box. “I… got you something too.”

The light in those eyes couldn’t have been brighter, and Church couldn’t believe how happy the other man was.

That light only grew brighter as Caboose opened the box and stared down at it. What he did next Church couldn’t say because he was looking down at his feet, kicking at the snow.

“Forever?” Caboose asked, his voice low and weak and Church didn’t look up, just nodded.

The arm around him was tight, pulling him in close to a larger body, and there was a gloved hand under his chin forcing his face up and Caboose’s lips were on his so hot and perfect and Church let himself press up into that heat. He was left panting when Caboose pulled back, and his eyes flashed to the bracelet that he hadn't known Caboose had already put on.

“Forever?” Caboose repeated, holding him close, his own eyes following Church’s to the engraving on the steel plate that made up the better part of the bracelet.

“As near as I can get,” Church agreed, trying to fight the blush that was coming to his cheeks at an astounding pace.

“All your love, forever?” Caboose repeated one last time, clearly reading the engraving and dammit Church leaned his head forward to bury his face in Caboose’s puffy coat because this was embarrassing. Couldn’t he just take the sentiment that was there and let it stand at that without Church having to say it out loud?

“Yeah. Forever. If you want…”

He didn’t get to finish because Caboose had lifted his face again and there was another kiss and dammit all he could do was grip Caboose’s coat tightly to hold him close and it was right.

It was almost enough to let him ignore the mass of cheering and shouting that had to be coming from the front window of the house.

And then when Caboose’s tongue flicked out against his lip, asking for something deeper, it was the easiest thing in the world not to hear them.


End file.
